LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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mpif Sup^rigli :|o 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Poems and Swedish TRSNSLimoNS. 



POEMS 



AND 



Swedish Translations 



BY 



FREDERICK PETERSON, M. D 



^^ Except that I have associated for a season with the rose I am 

the same clay I was before.'''' 

— GULISTAN OF SAADI. 

J.3 






BUFFALO, N. Y. ^^^^^^^S^-"^ ^ 

Peter Paul & Bro., Publishers, 

363 Main Street. 

1883. 






COPYRIGHT BY 

FREDERICK PETERSON,. M. D. 
1883. 



Peter Paul & Bro., Printers. 



TO 

AGNES ETHEL 

THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY 
DEDICATED. 



CONTENTS. 



To MY Mother. . . . . iq 

To SiGFRIDE. . . . . -17 

Sorrow. ..... 19 

The Water-lilies. . . . . 21 

The Quest. ..... 23. 

In the Rose-Garden of Saadi. . . . 25 

The Poem. . . . . . 27 

The Stars. — Franzen. . . . .29 

An Unforgotten Song. . . 31 

The Zoroastrian. . . . -33 

The Robber. ..... 35 

A Morning Song. . . . . -37 

A Health. ..... 39 

Christmas Eve. — Runeberg. . . .41 

The Wayside Crucifix. ... 45 

A Fancy. . . . . . -47 

The Coffin of St. Julien. ... 49 

The Coronation. . . . • 5^ 

At the Green Fir Tavern. . . . 53 



Little Karin. — Swedish Folk-song. 

The Arrows. 

To A Songstress. For L. C. 

What Dying Is, . . . 

To T.iTTLE Rosalie. 

A Ballad of War-time. 

Why does it Sigh so Heavy in the Forest 
Malmstrdm. ... 

Necken. — Stagnelius. 

The Path. .... 

The Dream of the Hyacinth. 

An Extravaganza. . . . 

A Drinking Song. — Bellman. 

Winter. ..... 

Snow. , . . . 

The Sicilian Triad. 

Hide and Seek. . 

Remorse. ..... 

The Catacombs. 

The Bluebells' Chorus. 

A Rainy Night. 

In Prison. .... 

Roses on the Grave. — von Braun. 

Neckrosen. — Botiiger. 

A Wish. .... 

I WILL Slumber. — von Braun. 

The Wonderful Harp. — Swedish Folk-song. 

On the Moldau. .... 



59 
6i 

63 

65 
67 

69 

73 

75 

77 

79 
81 

83 
85 
87 
89 

91 
93 
95 

97 

99 
101 

103 

^05 

107 

109 
117 



To LiLi. . . . . . 119 

The Little Collier-Boy. — Geijer. . . 121 

The Laplander's Song. — Franzen. . . 125 

The Crusader. . . . . ,129 

Ashes to Ashes. . . . . 131 

Cradle-song for my Heart. — Runeberg. . 133 

Happiness. . . . . . 137 

Her Soul and Body. . . . • ^39 

To Elin. . . . . . 141; 

The Brook. .... . 143 

The Lost Dreams. . . . .145 

NoRRLAND. — Graf Strom. ' . . . -147 

In the Harz. . . . . .151 

The Pythoness. , . . . -153 

Thy Bouquet. . . . . 155 

Between THE Twilight AND the Dawn. . 157 

Ebba af Hjelmsater. , . . . 159 

The Death of Hope. . . . .161 

With a Water-lily, — Ibsen. . . 163 

The Flame in the Wind. . . • 165 

The Bell. ..... 167 

The Mummy. , . . . .169 

To Music. . . . . . 171 

To THE Silent King. . . . '173 

Axel. . . . . .177 

Notes to Axel. . . . . .219 



" Hoiv the Jloivers of the aspen-plum flutter and turn ! Do I not 
think of you ? But your hotise is distant. 

The Master said, ^ It is the 7vant of thought about it. How is it 
distant /" " 

— K'UNG FOO-TSZE. 



To my Mother, 1 5 



TO MY MOTHER. 



Through these long months thy love shall bless 

A lonely roamer over seas, 
So love me more and sorrow less. 



Each tender smile, each past caress — 

How very dear to him are these, 
Whom through long years thy love shall bless, 



1 6 To my Mother. 

Who to his bosom aye^shall press 

The new-found flower of love — heartsease 
So love me more and sorrow less. 



To listening Fates each night address 

A low-voiced prayer upon thy knees, 
That they long years our love may bless. 



Perhaps the pitying Sisters guess 

How Hope the loveless bosom flees : 
Love, love me more — to sorrow less ! 



Love shall come back in tenderness, 
Across the months, across the seas, 
The steadfast love thy love does bless ; 
So love me more and sorrow less. 



To Sigfride. 17 



TO SIGFRIDE. 



The sweetest flower that blows 
I give you as we part ; 

For you it is a rose ; 
For me it is my heart. 



The fragrance it exales, 
(Ah ! if you only knew) 

Which but in dying fails, 
It is my love of you. 



1 8 To Sigfride. 

The sweetest flower that grows 
I give you as we part ; 

You think it but a rose ; 
Ah, me ! it is my heart. 



Sorrow. ig 



SORROW. 



She came as queen in robes of gray ; 

A doleful chant her maidens sung ; 
She drove alas ! all joy away, 

With her sad eyes and mournful tongue. 



And art thou really Sorrow ? ' ' her 
Some sudden fancy made me ask ; 

She answered not, but I aver, 

S/ie smiled, the rogue, behind her mask ! 



The Water-lilies. 21 



THE WATER-LILIES. 



On slender piles above the river, 
The mansions of the lakemen stand ; 

The calm, blue waters kiss and quiver ; 
The airs bring perfume from the land. 



All day the lakemen dreaming lie, 
The fine airs over, waters under, 

On golden beds beneath the sky 

Which sunshine makes a golden wonder. 



22 The Water-lilies. 

At night-fall close their four green doors, 

Lest some stray moonbeam, dangerous fellow. 

Should feast upon the precious stores 
Of perfume and of honey mellow. 



All night the lakemen lie in slumbers. 
The too sweet day in sleep forgetting ; 

The waves chime low in tuneful numbers ; 
No memory makes a vain regretting. 



Happy the lakemen dreaming so. 
Upon their couches golden-yellow, 

With nought of sorrow or of woe — 

Would I were with them, careless fellow ! 



The Quest. 23 



THE QUEST. 



" Where is my body? I cannot find it ! 
** I have been seeking the wide world over. 
" O who could hide it, O who could bind it, 
'^ From me a roamer, a lonely rover ? 
'' Where is my body ? I cannot find it ! " 



When from the earth-life her soul was parted, 
It stood in silence and woe and wonder, 
And now her spirit seeks broken-hearted 
Her body lying the green earth under — 
Ah ! from her body her soul is parted. 



24 The Quest. 

And ever vainly her gentle spirit 

Is seeking, seeking the wide world over ; 

She loved the earth-life, she would be near it ; 

She seeks her body, the lonely rover, 

Ah, ever vainly, the gentle spirit ! 



In the Rose- Garden of Saadt. 25 



IN THE ROSE-GARDEN OF SAADL 



A rare old garden this is, Saadi ; 
You made it centuries ago, 
But roses here still bloom and blow, 

And souls are called here from the body 
To wander happily to and fro. 



A rare old garden, Saadi, this is, 

To walk in when the winds are brusk ; 
These flowers exale an opiate musk 

Which soothes the spirit in its blisses 
Afloat upon the purple dusk. 



26 In the Rose- Garden of Saadi. 

This garden, Saadi, rare and old is ; 
Whom can I ask to share its bloom. 
Its damask vapors and perfume. 

Its red beds where the sunset's gold is ? 
Whom else to share it, Saadi, whom ? 



Hie Poem. 27 



THE POEM. 



Alas ! (how sad a word alas is !) 
I would again I were that room in 
So dear because of one dear woman 

Whom Memory meets but never passes, 
The chamber her great eyes illumine- 

Alas ! how sad a word alas is ! 



She was a Poem, a sweet thing created 
By God or some undreamed-of forces, 
Planned ere the suns began their courses. 

And in long ages after fated 

To seek again her secret sources — 

A gentle Poem, some sweet thing created. 



28 The Poem, 

How very sad my soul, alas, is. 
To be again the splendid room in. 
Which those two torches do illumine, 

Where Memory halts and never passes 
Because of love of one dear woman, 

But kneels remote in shadowy masses ! 



V 



The Stars. 29 



THE STARS. 

From the Swedish of F. M. Franzen. 

Little Fanny looked so glad 
At the shining stars and said, 
** With how many eyes I see 
' ' God look down on me ! ' ' 



^' God is also still more near, 
" Fanny ! see the flowers here. 
" Just as God's eyes, flowers thus 
'^ Friendly look on us." 



30 The Stars. 



'^ Mother ! now first clear and fair 
" Do I see Him. Know you where ? 
*' There from out your eyes I see 
'' God smile down on me ! " 



An Unforgotten Song. 31 



AN UNFORGOTTEN SONG. 



One day to me an angel gave 
A melody unknown of men ; 

Down in my heart I made a grave- 
The song I buried then. 



I did not make the grave so deep, 
But that through many a lonely hour, 

Its ghost now haunts me in my sleep, 
With all its mournful power. 



32 An Unf or gotten Song. 

The music murmurs in my sleep 
In melody unknown to men ; 

I did not make its grave so deep 
But that it comes again. 



The Zoroastrian. 33 



THE ZOROASTRIAN. 



As once perhaps in olden days 

Beneath the far-off Persian skies, 
Some reverent one of patient ways 

Did hours before the sun arise 
To hasten in the starlit morn 

Up some high hill when winds were cold, 
To wait the moment day is born, 

To kneel before the disk of gold ; 
And when the long rays were descried, 

Which leaped forth from the golden rim 
Of that great star he deified. 

To pour out orisons to him — 
As may have done this devotee, 

I wake, I wait, I kneel to thee. 



The Robber. 35 



THE ROBBER. 



Quick ! see the lawless brigand go 

Around the hill and through the wold, 

With pearls and diamonds all aglow 
And all agleam with stolen gold ! 



Now hidden in the secret woods, 
He hath no longer need to fret, 

But softly counts his precious goods- 
The robber is the rivulet. 



A Morning Song. 37 



A MORNING SONG. 



The night is gone, the winds renew, 
The stars have vanished one by one ; 

The flowers lift their cups of dew 
And drink a health unto the sun. 



The air is full of orchard blooms, 

And soft the white drifts come and go ; 

They fill the orchard's ample rooms 
With their sweet-scented summer snow. 



38 A Morning Song. 

I could no longer find my woes, 
Were I to seek them all the day ; 

They are too deep in summer snows, 
The orchard blooms are in the way. 



A Health. 39 



A HEALTH. 



A strange Knight with his visor drawn, 

With gleaming eye and glancing spear, 
Sought entrance at the gate at dawn ; 
His princely voice and air austere 
Bespoke both Knight and steed good cheer- 
But ere the eve the guest was gone. 



Aye, ere the eve came red and brown 
Up from the ocean with the breeze, 

The stranger left the coast and town. 
But with the fairest maid of these, 
To cross the gray November seas. 

And bind her to his foreign crown. 



4© A Health, 

Deep, deep this bitter cup I drain 
In honor of her gentle eyes, 

Her tender mouth that showed no pain, 
Her hair blown under alien skies, 
Of her become the plunderer's prize, 

Of her I shall not see again ! 



Christmas Eve. 41 



CHRISTMAS EVE. 

From the Swedish of Runeberg. 

The moon shone white upon the down ; 

The hungry lynx cried in the hedge ; 
The dog's long howl came from the town, 

When someone walked at the forest edge, 
Whose hut lay out upon the wold j 
The Christmas Eve was drear and cold. 



He quickened wearily his pace, 
Upon the pathway drifted o'er. 

To meet his dear ones' sweet embrace ; 
To them some Christmas bread he bore 

Asked at a wealthy farmer's gate — 

For they themselves but bark-bread ate. 



42 Christmas Eve. 

It darkened more and more, when lo ! 

He saw a boy alone and still, 
Who sat upon the drifted snow 

And breathed within his fingers chill ; 
And by the twilight still undimmed 
Half- frozen he already seemed. 



" Ah, whither goest thou, poor son? 

" Come home with me and warm thee, pray ! 
So said, he took the frozen one 

And erelong reached the garden way 
Which to his humble cottage led, 
His guest with him and loaf of bread. 



His wife beside the fireplace sat. 
The youngest child upon her breast. 

" You were so long in coming that 

'' You must be tired. Come here and rest, 

^^ And you come too ! " — so kind, so true. 

The stranger to the hearth she drew. 



Christmas Eve. 43 

It was not long before her care 

Had made the red flames livelier rise ; 

Unmindful then herself to spare, 

She took the bread with glad surprise, 

And with a bowl of milk in store. 

Both forward for the supper bore. 



Then quickly from the straw-strewn floor 

Unto the table sparely laid 
The happy children went before, 

But by the wall the stranger staid ; 
Yet kindly she the little guest 
Led to a place among the rest. 



When now the thankful prayer was said, 
For each a share of bread she broke. — 

** Let blessed be that gift of bread I " 
So from the bench the strange lad spoke. 

And tears his shining eyes forsook 

As he the offered portion took. 



44 Christmas Eve. 

But when she turned to break again, 

Quite whole had grown the loaf he blessed- 
She fixed her eyes in wonder then 

Upon the lad, her little guest. 
When still more marvellous than before, 
He seemed to be the same no more. 



For clear as stars his eyes now gleamed ; 

A halo from his forehead shone ; 
A robe, fall'n from his shoulders, seemed 

Like mist upon the breezes blown, 
And suddenly an angel, fair 
As any in the skies, was there. 



Their home was full of blissful light ; 

Each heart with hope and joy was fraught j 
It was an unforgotten night 

Within the good-man's humble cot; 
No feast was fairer or more blest, 
Because an angel was their guest. 



The Wayside Crucifix. 45 



THE WAYSIDE CRUCIFIX. 



A wooden Christ, a wooden cross — 
They mark this still and sacred spot, 

Where people pause to pray who pass 
That He forget them not. 



The winds are cold and black the skies. 
The rain falls from that drooping face 

Like tears, like tears from sorrowing eyes. 
And floods the holy place. 



46 The Wayside Crucifix. 

It is a pitying Christ ! alas ! 

And shall I halt or shall I flee ? 
O should I pray here as I pass 

That He forget not me ? 



A Fancy. 47 



A FANCY. 



Some snapping asunder of strings hath bereft us 
Of thy musical laughter so sadder than weeping ; 

And some kind of calmness and silence is left us 
By thy marvellous sleeping. 



Thy innocent heart it has throbbed into breaking, 

And a trance in thy face makes it paler and colder- 
How blest is the fancy there may be a waking 
When the ages are older ! 



A Fancy, 48 

That somewhere away in the barren abysses 

My shadow may meet thine, and mingle in meeting 

With sweeter caresses than those of our kisses, 
Which on earth were so fleeting ! 



That mine may afar in strange regions draw near it, 
Abroad in the cold, in the dim-lighted spaces ; 

That again and again and again the dark spirit 
It may clasp in embraces ! 



O Fancy, sweet Fancy, steal, steal away reason. 

And tell me when comes this divorcement from sorrow, 

And when shall this bliss be, this heavenly season — 
Tomorrow ? Tomorrow. 



The Coffin of St. Julien. 49 



THE COFFIN OF ST. JULIEN. 

Lines in a bottle cast into the sea. 

Stranger, in this narrow cell 

Dwelled a soul with love to cheer it ; 
Ah, whose was it ? mark it well ! 

'Twas St. Julien's gentle spirit. 



Sweet and sacred was this saint ; 

Health was his — now ours we term it 
His own glow our cheeks doth paint — 

Heirs of this immortal hermit. 



50 The Coffin of St. Juli en. 

Lone and old he did much good 
From this cell — O Time endear it 

Now we feel our lives imbued 
With the sparkle of his spirit. 



Stranger, hear the praise we sing 
In sad verse, for gods confirm it 

Go — and other votaries bring 
To the Coffin of the Hermit ! 



The Coronation, 51 



THE CORONATION. 



Go, Memory, return, you know the way 
Along the many paths which have been ours, 
Go till you reach the gloomy aisle of firs 
That leads up to that little country church, 
And lay these flowers upon the grave of her — 
Pansies they are which she had loved so much. 
And think, O messenger^ that where you walk 
Once in the old time Death came in to her ! 
A clear, melodious voice, nor far, nor near. 
Nor full, nor faint, nor measurable in tone. 
Had read to her the legends on the stones 
And died away above the golden hiils. 
And there before a cavern's marble door, 
Smiling she stood, but started suddenly, 
For straight she knew upon her temples hung 
The tangled poppies and sad cypress crown : 
She felt them — drooped her head — and entered in, 
Leaving the green day and the sunlit fields. 



At the Green Fir Tavern. 53 



AT THE GREEN FIR TAVERN. 



Down through the windows open wide, 
To fix the noonday on the floor , 

The fir-tree's gloomy fingers glide — 

They glide and pause and glide once more. 



There sits the round-faced drowsy host ! 

Perhaps some song is in his pipe, 
Some song to lull, some smoke-like ghost 

Of Bacchus when the grape is ripe. 



54 ^^ the Green Fir Tavern. 

Without a gray old harper stands, 

And through the noiseless golden noon, 

The strings pour forth beneath his hands 
A wailing, sweet Italian tune. 



A lonely traveller sits and dreams. 

And dreams have filled his soul anew ; 

The mountain wine, the music, seems 
To set his sad heart singing too. 



For Her the harper strikes the strings ; 

The traveller's dream, this song, is Hers ; 
And loud of Her the throstle sings 

Within the twilight of the firs. 



Little Karin. 55 



LITTLE KARIN. 

A Swedish folk-song. 

Once served the little Karin 
Within the young king's hall ; 

She was a bright star beaming 
Among the maidens small. 



Among the maidens beaming, 
She seemed a star aglow ; 
And once the young king whispered 
To little Karin so : 



56 Little Karin. 

" And hear thou, little Karin, 
'' Say, wilt thou now be mine ? 
'* Gray charger and gold saddle — 
'* These both shall straight be thine.'' 



'' Gray charger and gold saddle 
'^ I do not care for — no, 
'' Give them to thy young queen and 
" Let me with honor go ! " 



" And hear thou, little Karin, 
" Say, wilt thou now be mine ? 
'' My reddest crown and golden, 
" That also shall be thine." 



'^ Thy reddest crown and golden 
^' I do not care for — no, 
^' Give that to thy young queen and 
'' Let me with honor go ! " 



Little Karin. 57 



'' And hear thou, little Karin, 
'' Say, wilt thou now be mine ? 
" The half of all my kingdom, 
'' That also shall be thine." 



'' The half of all thy kingdom 
^' I do not care for — no, 
'' Give that to thy young queen and 
'' Let me with honor go ! " 



'' And hear thou, little Karin. 
'* If thou wilt not be mine, 
'' Then into the spiked barrel 
*' Shall go that form of thine ! " 



'' If into the spiked barrel 
'' To put me thou art bent, 
^'' God's angels fair shall see it 
*' That I am innocent." 



58 Little Karin. 

So in the spiked barrel 
They little Karin bound, 

And all the king's retainers 

They rolled her round and round. 



But then there came from Heaven 
Two white doves fair to see ; 

They took up little Karin — 

And straightway there were three. 



And up from Hell came flying 

Two ravens black to see ; 
They took the young king with them- 

And straightway there were three. 



The Arrows. 59 



THE ARROWS. 



I am sore wounded ; 
I sat in the woodland 

As the moon rose ; 
I arose when the moon did, 
And walked in the woodland ; 

How sad the wind blows ! 



She came when the moon did, 
The sweet rose, the fair rose 

Love deifies. 
Ah ! I am sore wounded, 
By the keen arrows 

That came from her eyes. 



To a Songstress. 6i 



TO A SONGSTRESS. 
For L. C. 

A tone melodious and low 

As we have sometime heard in dreams, 
With mellow modulated flow 

Of murmurs under streams, 
A tone blithe birds in happy valley. 

On branches swaying to and fro, 

May answer clear and musically. 



That tone is thine, and since to me 
It seems as sweet and rare a note 

As e'er was plained by bird, or bee 
That singeth in a lily's throat, 

Then let these lines faint, far and lowly, 
Speak mutely praises unto thee, 

As echoes of their echoes wholly. 



62 To a Songstress. 

But if thy voice be sweet and rare 
As tunes of rill and bird and bee, 

Thyself art like the lily fair 
Wherein the bee sings gleefully ; 

And well do they who feel the power 
Of one dear song of thine declare, 

^' Yea, thou art like unto a flower ! " 



What Dying Is. 63 



WHAT DYING IS. 



To leave the turmoil and the careful tumult, 

And wander vaguely to a pleasant region, 

Where green fields glow with sheen of summer sunset, 

And narrow farther to a sylvan vista, 

Whence issue sounds to soothe the spirit's trouble; 

To hear the laugh and gurgle of low waters, 

And young birds sing with a diviner music. 

And young birds carol with a lovelier music, 

And evening winds that walk with fainter footfall 

Unto the white clouds and the bluer sky-depths ; 

To rest a little some green willow under. 

Whose branches whisper in that shadow-garden, 

And hold that hand which hath the tenderest pressure, 

And touch sweet lips just as thine eyes are closing : 

This is that failing ere the sunset's fading, 

This is that dying ere the morn immortal ! 



64 What Dying Is. 

To see blue-hooded violets reposing 

Among the grasses twining to caress thee 

And kiss thy cheek, as if thou wert a sister, 

And warm thee with their breath of heavenly odor, 

As if thou wert to them indeed a sister ; 

To find some quiet in the willow vista, 

Some little slumber in that shadow-garden : 

This is that evening of thy dreamless sleeping, 

This is that slumber ere the life immortal ! 



A gentle waking to a newer beauty, 
A gradual unfolding to the soul-life, 
As though a rose's chrysalid transported 
Into the blooming valley of that Eden ; 
A slow unfolding of an early blossom ; 
A little kneeling at the sapphire portals. 
And consciousness of all surcease of heartache. 
Tumultuous tremor as the soul receiveth 
The grander splendor of the spheral chorus. 
That joy which " passeth human understanding 
This is that coming of another morning. 
This is that morning of the life immortal ! 



To Little Rosalie. 65 



TO LITTLE ROSALIE. 



If you were in my garden, maiden, 

The flowers would say : 
" This truly is our little sister 

'^ Of yesterday, 
'' The one we thought the angels laid in 

*' Her dreams away — 
'* How sweeter, dearer since we missed her ! 

The flowers would say. 



They would your tiny form so treasure, 

You could not go, 
Your wee, wee feet and hanging tresses 

Entangle so, 
That you would lie amidst their pressure 

And sheen and glow 
And sweet breath and old-time caresses, 

And could not go. 



66 To Little Rosalie. 

The trees would look down glad and smiling 

Upon you too ; 
The rose-buds would burst quick asunder 

To look at you, 
The skies find such blue eyes beguiling 

As lovers do, 
And brown bees haunt your mouth in wonder, 

But fear of you. 



A Ballad of War-time. 67 



A BALLAD OF WAR-TIME. 



At night upon a lonely road 

A traveller hurries fast, 
And who has known his drear abode 

Will look at him aghast ! 



He comes from distant foreign lands, 
And something strange he bears ; 

He holds his own head in his hands, 
And wo fully it stares. 



68 A Ballad of War-time. 

A soldier is he, and was slain 

By cruel scimetar, 
And long, long years his form has lain 

By high-walled Temesvar. 



Each night his home to find he tries, 

Beside the Elbe wave — 
In vain ! when dawn is come he lies 

In this same cursed grave. 



Ah, piteous fate, that he who shed 
For love his patriot blood. 

Restless and longing, even dead, 
Must lie in hated sod ! 



At night upon a lonely road 

A traveller hurries fast, 
And who has known his drear abode 

Will look at him aghast ! 



Why does it Sigh so Heavy in the Forest ? 69 



WHY DOES IT SIGH SO HEAVY IN THE 
FOREST ? 

From the Swedish of B. E. Malmstrbm. 

A little lad is sitting a bleak autumnal even 

In quiet playing by a yellow lind ; 
He sees the lighted windows above him in the Heaven, 

And hears the leaves in prattle on the wind ; 
But while he sits in fancy and many visions sees, 
The even of September grows darker in the trees ; 
Then does it sigh so heavy in the forest. 



yo If'/iy does it Sigh so Heavy in the Forest f 

The little lad he listened, becoming sad in mood, 
Then rose and ran along the path in haste ; 

He thought dark thoughts of evil that froze his very blood, 
And went astray upon the heather waste ; 

He thought then of his father, his mother, sisters dear : 

'' God help me who am little; I would I were not here ! " 
Then does it sigh so heavy in the forest. 



The moon ascends now softly from out the cloudy rift 
And casts its silver mantle o'er the earth ; 

The frightened shadows hurry to the mountain bases swift, 
And elfish trolls are flitting to the north ; 

The mountain summits gleam, but the wildwood it is murk, 

And owls pour forth their dirges within the rainy birk ; 
Then does it sigh so heavy in the forest. 



The little lad then hastened across the moorland wide. 

And thought of many an olden fairy lay. 

While night went on and over and stars of Heaven did 
glide, 

But from his homeward path he went astray. 

*' Ye gentle stars above me, that move so loftily, 

" Ye withered little blossoms, O tell it, tell it me, 

'^ Who was it sighed so heavy in the forest? ' 



JV/iy does it Sigh so Heavy in the Forest ? 71 

But all the stars were silent, and little blossoms still, 

And many tears of bitterness he shed ; 
Then came he to an elf-grot, with winged swiftness, till 

He stood amidst their airy ring and said : 
" O ye that move in dances on the heather-growing lea, 
'* Ye beautiful small sisters, O tell it, tell it me, 

' ' Who was it sighed so heavy in the forest ? ' ' 



The little queen of elfins now in her smiling way 

Caressed the lad upon his rosy cheek : 
'' Weep not, thou pretty lo^t one, although so far astray, 
*' Although so frightened in the woodland bleak, 
*' But sit here on the greensward of the heather-growing lea, 
'' And dry thine eyes so tearful and I will tell to thee 
" Who was it sighed so heavy in the forest. 



'' When night descends serenely upon the land and deep, 

*' And noisy day begins to vanish slow, 

"And underneath the green isle the billows go to sleep, 

'* And all the beauteous stars commence to glow — 

" Then mirror-clear and beaming becomes the heavenly 
dome, 

" And hosts of kindly angels beneath it mutely roam • 

"And weep their silver tears upon the earth. 



72 Why does it Sigh so Heavy in the Forest ? 

" Then sees in Heaven's great mirror, poor earth, her form 
of sin, 

'' And finds herself a black and spurned abode ; 

*' She reckons up her sins and all murders, lies within, 

'' Of which a thousand years have formed her load ; 

" And through her vital marrow death's shudders tremble 
then, 

" Confesses every mountain and prays then every glen, 

*' Then does it sigh so heavy in the forest." 



" Have thanks, thou queen of elfins ! I shall forget no 
more, 

'' Nor shall I fear my homeward way to go ; 

** Lo ! there the moon beams brightly upon my path before. 

'^ Farewell ! we shall not soon forget, I know, 

** Each other, and though lowly and very poor I be, 

'' Yet unto God I promise that never shall for me 

" It sigh so heavy in the forest ! " 



Necken. 73 



NECKEN. 

From the Swedish of E. J. Stagnelius. 

Golden clouds at eve are glancing ; 
Elves upon the heath are dancing, 
And the leave-crowned Necken ever 
Rings his harp in the silver river. 



Lo ! a lad where trees are sighing, 
In the violets' vapor lying. 
Hears the sound the waters weave in 
Night, and calls through quiet even ; 



74 Necken. 

" Poor old minstrel, wherefore chanting? 
* ' Will not sorrows cease their haunting ? 
" Though thou field and wood enliven 
'' Still by God thou art not forgiven. 



'^ Paradise's moonlit shadows, 

" Eden's flower-crowned meadows, 

*' Angels high, whose lights enfold them — 

^'' Will thine eyes no more behold them ?" 



Tears the old man's face are laving; 
Down he dives in the waters waving, 
While his harp grows still and never 
Sings again in the silver river. 



The Path. 75 



THE PATH. 



I leave my home at early day, 

To follow silent through the wood 

A crooked, rambling, pleasant way, 
With flowers and birds a multitude. 



The rivulet glides by swift and still ; 

Loud rondels sings the happy thrush ; 
But oft I leave him when I will. 

And seek the deeper woodland hush. 



76 The Path. 

Presently it is afternoon ; 

Then from the mountain steal the shades ; 
The sun will leave the valley soon, 

And in the mist the pathway fades. 



But ah ! can I have lost my way ? 

There is no mark there is no light ; 
The path may baffle and betray ; 

Where does it lead to ? It is night. 



The Dream of the Hyacinth. 77 



THE DREAM OF THE HYACINTH. 



*' Last night the Dream -god made of me 

" A mortal maiden, and I lay 

^' Pale in the grass beneath a tree 

'' Until a young knight came that way. 



' * He took me in his arms and said, 

'' He loved me, I should be his bride ; 

*' He kissed my lips till they were red 

'' And called me sweet-breathed, purple-eyed." 



78 The Dream of the Hyacinth. 

So dreams the flower ; its dream is deep ; 

It cannot tell me, but I know ; 
How long will these magicians keep 
The maid in this miholy sleep 

Before again they let her go ? 



An Extravaganza. 79 



AN EXTRAVAGANZA. 
After a Nocturne of Chofin. 

Have I a lover 

Who is noble and free ? — 
/ would he were nobler 

Than to love me. 

— Emerson. 



Thou art so near me, I do hold thee, 

I clasp this clay which thou dost seem of ; 

Thou art so distant — I enfold thee, 
But thou art far from that I dream of. 



Below, the river hurries madly — 

Thou art so near me, I do hold thee — 

The river — ah, I ponder sadly 

How I but clasp thee, kiss, enfold thee ! 



8o An Extravaganza. 

Come, love, come to me and discover 
How I but clasp, enfold and kiss thee ; 

Thou art so noble, but thy lover. 

He must not love thee, can not miss thee. 



Deep down in this forgetful river, 

Come, love, come with me, I do hold thee- 
One moment's pain — my soul forever 

Shall clasp thee, kiss thee and enfold thee. 



A Drinking Song. 81 



A DRINKING SONG. 

From the Swedish of Bellman. 

Drink out thy glass ! see, Death is waiting for thee, 
Whetting his sword upon thy threshold here ! 

Be not afraid ! he but the grave before thee 
Opens, then closes haply yet for a year. 

Movitz, consumption hangs threatening o'er thee ! 
Strike now the octave ! 

Tune up thy strings and sing of spring and good cheer f 



Yellow complexion, thin cheeks faintly blooming, 
Breast sunken in and flattened shoulderblade — 

Let's see your hand ! each vein, so blue and fuming. 
Seems as if swelled and in moist vapor clad — 

Damp are thy. hands and their veins stiff as clay now ! 
Strike up and play now I 

Empty thy bottle^ sing and drink and be glad ! 



Winter. 83 



WINTER. 



Now round the rivulet's castle walls 
Resound no more the summer's praises, 

But scarce heard through its frozen halls 
A melody runs in secret places : 



For though the wood lies deep with snow 
Which veils from us the mosses' slumbers, 

The stream with soft, unceasing flow 
Goes gliding down in golden numbers. 



84 Winter. 

What language speaks the beauteous stream, 
With murmurs under its green apsis, 

Unconscious voicings of its dream, 
And music of its gentle lapses ? 



Is this but gravity which sings ? 

Or blithe joy in a sense of being, 
Or knowledge of more wondrous things. 

And miracles beyond our seeing ? 



Snow. 85 



SNOW. 



Some snowflakes fallen from afar, 
Pale, cold, of shining purity. 

Seem like unto a beauteous star. 

But they are much more like to thee- 

I cannot write how like they are. 



The sun may look out any day. 
And they will seek again the skies, 

But not till melted quite away 

To drops which sparkle like thine eyes- 

Ah, me, if thou wouldst melt as they ! 



86 Snow. 

Because so beautiful and far, 
So pale and cold in purity, 

I deem them like a lovely star. 

But they are much more like to thee- 

Ah, Heaven, how very like they are ! 



The Sicilian Triad. 87 



THE SICILIAN TRIAD. 



Where are they gone, 
Ah, whither fled, 

The songs at dawn ? 

Where are they gone ? 

We muse upon 

Their singers dead. 

Where are they gone. 
Ah, whither fled ? 



Sweet sounds they drew 
From heath and hill, 
Where soft winds blew — 
Sweet sounds they drew, 
Grown faint and few 

And almost still ; 
Sweet sounds they drew 
From heath and hill. 



SS The Sicilian Triad. 

Ah, now no more 

Such songs are sung ! 
The years of yore 
Come now no more, 
With their sweet lore 
In sweeter tongue. 
Ah, now no more 

Such songs are sung ! 



Hide and Seek. 89 



HIDE AND SEEK. 



Though loitering far, I hear the shout 
Of happy children in their play ; 

Some hide and others seek them out — 
How sweet it were to be as they ! 



Ah ! merrily their voices come 

Across the churchyard green to me ; 

God well may bless the distant hum 
Of rosy children in their glee ! 



90 Hide and Seek. 

Play, little ones, and run and shout 

Among the purple heather blooms ! 
If some day cares should be about, 
Or old, wan Sorrow seek you out — 
Then run and hide among the tombs 



Remorse. 9 r 



REMORSE. 



I saw you once and in that hour 
I wrote a song to last a day, 

Which said your body seemed a flower, 
Your soul its fragrance seemed alway. 



You thought me bold ; and now I sigh 
Because the sorry rhyme I rue j 

Alas ! a thoughtless wretch was I 

Who dared compare a flower to you ! 



The Catacombs. 93 



THE CATACOMBS. 



Remember ? How one word can stir 

These desolate recesses, 
As if a magic word it were 

Which curses or which blesses ! 



The labyrinth is damp and dark ; 

Here woe, grief, sin are buried ; 
Ah, read the lines the torches mark, 

By which the walls are serried ! 



94 The Catacombs. 

Up, up into glad day again ! 

New hopes the sunlight forges, 
While here in darkness, death and pain 

Pale Memory holds her orgies ! 



The Bluebells^ Chorus. 95 



THE BLUEBELLS' CHORUS. 

Chanson fantastiqiie . 

Our carillon will carol on 

Li mellow melody 
To invisible dead Isabella 

Who is a bell to be, 
When the grass grows green upon her grave 

And swallows follow free, 
To cling and swing and sing again 

Upon their trysting tree. 

Our carillon will carol on 

In firmer murmur then, 
When the grass is green as ber}^l on 

The new grave in the glen, 
When invisible dead Isabelle 

Is made a flower again, 
'I'o chime and rhyme all time with us 

And know no more of men. 



A Rainy Night. 97 



A RAINY NIGHT. 



The night is dark and long winds moan ; 

Without the firelight casts no glow ; 
The rain repeats its undertone 

Unceasingly of woe. 



Strange ! but it seemed a face looked in, 
So piteously and yet so mild ; 

Some mother dead it must have been, 
Who seeks her sorrowing child. 



98 A Rainy Night. 

'' Come to me, grieve no more, ah, stay ! 
'* May I not be beloved too ? 
" I will throw off these robes of clay 
'' To roam the earth with you." 



Then all the window seemed aflame 
From features heavenly, womanly, 
'* Mother of God, I know thy name — 
" Turn not thy face from me ! " 



It is a dream — the long winds moan ; 

Without the firelight casts no glow ; 
The rain repeats its undertone 

Unceasingly of woe. 



In Prison. 99 



IN PRISON. 



Dear maid ! put your head to my breast, you will hear 
The prisoner drearily pacing his cell — 

What's this ! does he stumble or dream you are near, 
And dreaming you near does he stumble as well ? 



For twenty long years in the gloom I have heard 
The prisoner's footsteps — for twenty or more — 

Life-sentence it is — and he never has stirred 

From his steady, strong tramp till this hour before ! 



loo In Prison. 

Dear maid ! put your head to my breast, you will hear 
The prisoner knock in the gloom of his cell — 

How he strikes on the walls, in his frenzy and fear, 
Lest you go and not hear what he wishes to tell ! 



Roses on the Grave. loi 



ROSES ON THE GRAVE. 

From the Swedish of W. von Braun, 

Down among the marbles of the churchyard 
Thekla went one even with fresh roses 
To be laid upon her brother's headstone 
As an offering of silent sorrow. 
When she slowly came unto the green mound 
Where the dear departed lay low-hidden, 
Fell she on her knees in sad devotion, 
While her prayers flew upward unto Heaven 
And her tears fell downward on the velvet. 
Then descended Consolation, mild-eyed angel, 
To the sisterly and faithful bosom. — 
Suddenly disturbed by heavy sighing 



I02 Roses on the Grave. 

Near she saw a low, smooth grave made newly, 
And upon that grave a pallid maiden, 
Bowed and withered like a frozen lily. 
Souls by grief and sadness overburdened 
Find in others sweet, enduring friendship, 
And her own affliction now forgetting, 
Thekla falteringly approached the mourner,. 
Threw her arms around her softly saying : 

" Poor, poor sister, tell me whom thou grievst for ! 
The maid was mute but to her heart she pointed, 

*' Poor, poor sister, why art thou so tearless ? " 
The maid was mute but to her brow she pointed. 

" On the grave thou hast not any roses ; 

" Wilt thou not have half of these my flowers? " 
Sadly smiling to her cheeks she pointed. 
To those cheeks so whitely wan and wasted, 
And she spoke then in a broken whisper : 

*' Have I not upon the grave laid roses? " 
Then fell Thekla on the poor one's bosom, 
And she wept but questioned not thereafter. 



Neckrosen. 103 



NECKROSEN. 
From the Swedish of C. W. Bottiger. 

A lad leaping down to the ocean strand, 
There after a lily extended his hand ; 
But God ivill add unto his angels ! 



Meanwhile as he stood from the breakers there 
A mermaid arose green-mantled and fair. 
But God will add unto his angels ! 



I04 Neckrosen. 

" O bring me the lily which near to thee stands ; 
'^ I cannot quite reach it, so little my hands ! " 
But God will add unto his angels / 



The maid plucked the lily for him as he smiled. 
But lured him into the waters wild, 
I^or God would add unto his angels / 



A Wish. 105 



A WISH. 



I fain would be a troubadour 
(If one poor wish be not a sin) 

With voice to charm and song to lure, 
And some melodious mandolin. 



Then I would sing a song so sweet, 

So strange and low and strong and brave, 

That it should pierce beneath my feet 
And thrill you in your quiet grave ! 



/ Will Slumber. 107 



I WILL SLUMBER. 

From the Swedish of W. von Braun. 

^' Darling, in the gentle arms of slumber 
'* Seek that once thy heart's pain be forgotten," 
Said a hapless mother to her daughter 
Who the late departed bridegroom mourned for. 
** Only one good friend on earth has sorrow — 
*' That is night with her sweet peace and quiet, 
'* Ah ! it is the hours so long and wakeful 
*' That have paled thy cheeks and dimmed thy glances, 
*' And my fresh new rose like tempests ravaged. 
'* Sleep, my poor one ! Dream's befriending angel 
" Will give back whom late thou wert forlorn of, 
'' Whom thou now dost weep, consumed of sorrow. 



io8 / Will Slumber. 

" Thou, who hast been naught but sweet, O hear me ! 

^' Seek the rest which thou so much hast need of." 
Then the daughter breathed, ^' Yes, I will slumber, 

'* Seek the rest which I so much have need of. 

** Long the night will be. O mother, bless me ! '^ 

'* Kiss me yet again, for I — will — slumber ! " 
From her mother's breast upon the swansdown 
Blest she drooped low, low adown and smiling, 
Clasped her soft, white, tender hands together, 
Pressing them against her heart with rapture ; 
Then her eyes even as she sighed closed slowly, 
And the mother by vain hope deluded 
Stole out gently from the slumberer pallid, 
That she might a heartfelt orison offer 
Unto Heaven for her sick daughter's slumber. 
Yes, she slumbered. 

Soon a pitying angel 
Gave her back whom late she was forlorn of, 
But it was not Dream's — 'twas Death's — dear angel. 



The Wonderful Hat p 109 



THE WONDERFUL HARP. 

A Swedish folk-song. 

There lived a baron beside the sea, 

Young is my life ! 
And two young daughters fine had he. 

My heart it is heavy ! 



The elder was dark as the earth is dun ; 

Young is my life / 
The younger was white as the shining sun. 

My heart it is heavy ! 



no The Wonderful Harp. 

And sister whispered to sister so : 

Young is my life ! 
• ' Come, let us down to the seashore go ! " 

My heart it is heavy ! 



" Though you wash yourself both day and night, 

Young is my life ! 
" You will never like me be clear and white." 

My heart it is heavy I 



And now as they stood on the shore far from home, 

Young is my life ! 
Pushed the elder her sister down into the foam. 

My heart it is heavy I 



" O dearest, my sister, help, help me to land, 

Young is my life ! 
'' And to thee will I give my red gold-band ! ' 

My heart it is heavy I 



The Wonderful Harp. iii 

*' Be sure I shall have thy gold-band red, 

Young is my life / 
" But God's green earth shalt thou never more tread ! " 

My heart it is heavy / 



" O dearest, my sister, help, help me to land, 

Young is my life / 
" And to thee will I give my gold-crown grand ! " 

My heart it is heavy / 



" Be sure I shall have thy gold-crown red, 

Young is my life I 
" But God's green earth shalt thou nevermore tread ! " 

My heart it is h eavy ! 



^' O dearest, my sister, help, help me to land. 

Young is my life / 
^' And to thee will I give my bridegroom's hand ! " 

My heart it is heavy / 



112 The Wonderful Harp. 

*' Be sure I shall soon with thy bridegroom wed, 

Young is my life ! 
" But God's green earth shalt thou nevermore tread ! " 

My heart it is heavy / 



" Greet then my father at home from me ; 

Young is my life ! 
" I drink to my bridal deep in the sea." 

My heart it is heavy ! 



" And greet at home my mother so good ; 

Young IS my life / 
^^ I drink to my bridal deep in the flood." 

My heart it is heavy I 



" Unto my bridegroom greetings take ; 

Young is my life I 
'' In the sand my bridal bed I must make." 

My heart it is heavy ! 



The Wonderful Harp. 113 

There dwelt an old harper down by the shore; 

Young is my life ! 
He saw how the billows a fair form bore. 

My heart it is heavy / 



He seized the maid where the breakers were, 

Young is my life / 
And fashioned a beautiful harp of her. 

My heart it is heavy / 



He took the snow-white breast of the maid, 

Young is my life / 
That her voice should sound from the harp he made. 

My heart it is heavy I 



He took the maiden's fingers small, 

Young is my life / 
Made ivory pins in the harp of all. 

My heart it is heavy ! 



TI4 ^^<? Wonderful Harp. 

He took the maiden's golden hair, 

Young is my life ! 
And wrought of it harp-strings strange and rare. 

My heart it is heavy ! 



Then he bore the harp to the bridal hall, _ 

Young is my life ! 
Where desire and joy and pomp ruled all. 

My heart it is heavy f 



When he struck the harp into melody wild, 

Young is my life ! 
The new bride sat in her chair and smiled. 

My heart it is heavy / 



At the second stroke which the strings ran through. 

Young is my life I 
The bridal robes from the bride they drew. 

My heart it is heavy ! 



The Wonderful Harp. 115 

At the third peal which from the strange harp sped, 

Young is my life ! 
Dead lay the bride in her bridal bed. 

My heart it is heavy ! 



On The Moldau . 117 



ON THE MOLDAU. 



The sun lies red upon the river, 
The last glad sun that we shall see, 

For night comes soon to part forever, 
To part forever you and me. 



We have known joy, we have known sorrow, 
We have known ah ! too much of pain, 

But more and more and more tomorrow 
Shall come the shadows back again. 



Ti8 On the Moldau. 

The sun lies red above the river, 
The last glad sun that we shall see, 

For night comes soon to part forever, 
To part forever you and me. 



To Lilt, 1 1 9 



TO LILI. 



Deep in a lonely valley hangs 

A flower so sweet, a flower so pale, 

O it were balm for many pangs, 
Could loveliness alone avail ! 



Its perfumes glide forth on the air 

And hold me in a reverie ; 
In sooth, dear maid, the flower seems there 

Not thee — but Earth's late dream of thee 



The Little Collier-Boy. 12 \ 



THE LITTLE COLLIER-BOY. 

» 

From the Swedish of E. G. Geijer. 

" By the kiln in the wood father sits ; 

''■ Mother at home sits spinning. 

" Wait, I also shall soon be a man 

" And have a sweetheart for the winning. 

*' It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



*' Early I started from home with the sun- 
'' Quicker be, while it does glimmer ! 
" Unto my father I bring food and drink. 
'' Soon will the twilight be dimmer. 
" It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



122 The Little Collier- Boy. 

" I do not fear on the little green path, 

*' Though I alone in the forest must wander, 

*' But fir-trees are looking so darkly at me, 

" And mountains are casting such long shadows yonder. 

'* It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



'* Tra la la ! quick as a bird in its flight, 

" Now shall I hurry while humming — 

" Oh ! from the mountains it answers so fierce, 

" So heavy the words that are coming. 

'' It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



" O were I only with father down there ! 
*' A bear I hear growling and tearing, 
'* And the bear he is the strongest of men, 
'' Neither the young nor the old ones sparing ! 
" It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



" The shadow is falling so thick, so thick, 

" On the lonely road like a cover; 

*' It creeps and it rustles on stone and on stick, 

" And trolls in the heather run over ! 

^' It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



The Little Collier- Boy. 123 

** O God ! there is one — there are two — in their net 
*' They will take me — ah, see them, how merry ! 
** They beckon ! God pity me, poor little child — 
" Now, now for my life I must hurry ! 
*' It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



And night it descended, the hour grew late, 

And wilder and wilder the shadow ; 

It crept and it rustled on stone and on stick ; 

The little one ran to the meadow. 

It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



With beating heart and with rose-blossom cheek, 

By the kiln near his father he fell, 
'* Be welcome, be welcome, thou dear son of mine ! "■ 
'* O I've seen the trolls and much more as well ! " 

It is so dark far, far in the forest. 



*' My son, I have sat here so many years, 

*' And ever God guarded from evil; 

** Whoever rightly the " Lord's Prayer" doth read 

" Fears neither troll nor the devil, 

** Though it is dark far, far in the forest." 



The Laplander' s Song. 125 



THE LAPLANDER'S SONG. 
From the Swedish of F. M. Franzen. 

Fly, my gentle deer, 

Plain and mountain o'er ! 

Soon my maiden's door 
Thou mayst paw an ear ; 

Rich the mosses grow 

In the drifting snow. 



Short indeed the day ; 

The road is very long. 

Hasten with my song ! 
Let us fly away ! 

Here there is no rest ; 

Here but wolves infest. 



I 26 The Laplander' s Song. 

Lo, an eagle passed ! 

Blest with wings is he. 

Watch yon cloudlet flee 
Were I on it cast, 

I might see the while 

Thee afar to smile. 



Thou my heart dost bear, 

Captured hastily, 

As a deer may be 
By a kindly snare, 

O thou lurest me 

More than whirling sea ! 



When I thee have seen, 

A thousand thoughts delight 
Me both day and night — 

Thousands though I ween 
They are one alone — 
To take thee for mine own. 



The Laplander' s Song. 127 

Thou mayst hide thee near 

Behind the valley stone, 

Or to the woods alone 
Fly with thy reindeer — 

Away, away shall be 

Every stone and tree ! 



Fly, my gentle deer, 

Plain and mountain o'er 
Soon my maiden's door 

Thou mayst paw anear ; 
Rich the mosses grow 
In the drifting snow. 



The Crusader. 129 



THE CRUSADER. 



His loved ones from the turret see 

The knight with lance and shining mail 

Who rides away across the lea — 

O Heaven forbid that he should fail ! 



Long years he fought in Holy Wars 
In the far lands of Palestine, 

And now he comes back with his scars. 
To make his glories, dear ones, thine. 



130 The Crusader. 

Victorious from the Holy Lands, 
He seeks again his native shores ; 

Red in the sun his castle stands — 

But weeds have grown before his doors ! 



Ashes to Ashes. 131 



ASHES TO ASHES. 



Thou tender blossom, more than human, 
Because so fair and pure and humble, 

O lovely flower, how could I doom one 
So dear to droop defiled — to crumble 
Like man and woman ! 



And so, my flower, my love, I swore it, 
That one thing, one, should not so perish, 

That mocking Fate should laugh not o'er it. 
Not alway mar what most I cherish. 
While I deplore it. 



132 Ashes to Ashes. 

Now on the white hot coals I place thee, 
Among the ferns of some gone aeon ; 

In shining vesture they do grace thee, 
And perfumes as from isles i^gean 
Do soft embrace thee. 



No taint, no blemish, naught but ashes — 
Of such fine death thy frame is worthy : 

The ermine couch with damask flashes. 
Quick change of heavenly back to earthy, 
No soul abashes. 



O bud half-open, thy sweet splendor 

Is risen from the fiery portal, 
And atoms, which through stem so slender 

Had crept into a bloom immortal. 
Their work surrender. 



Cradle Song for my Heart. 1 33 



CRADLE SONG FOR MY HEART 

From the Swedish of Runeberg. 

Sleep, disquieted heart, O sleep ! 
Worldly sorrow and joy forget ! 
Let not hope destroy thy slumber, 
Nor a dream thy oblivion. 



Wheiefore dost thou at day look still ? 
Tell me, what dost desire from it ? 
Haply for thy deeper heart-wounds 
Some fair balm-bringing flower ? 



134 Cradle Song for my Heart. 

Mournful heart, now thine eyelids close ; 
Daylight's roses thou'st proved enough ; 
Only slumber's shadow-garden 
Hath the herb that will heal thee. 



Sleep as lilies that sleep alway 
Lightly broken by autumn winds ; 
Sleep as hind that bleeding sleepeth 
With the burden of arrows. 



Wherefore pinest for days gone by ? 
Why remember that blest thou wert ? 
Sometime must the spring-time vanish, 
Sometime joy, O heart, also ! 



Even thou hast thy May-day seen ; 
What if lasting it could not be ! 
Seek not for its tender sunshine 
Now in glooms of the winter. 



Cradle Song for my Heart. 1 35 

Dost remember the hour's bliss still ? 
Greened the forest and trilled the bird, 
And the hill with balmy odor 
Was the fane of affection. 



Dost remember embraces there, 
And the heart that had sought for thee ? 
Dost remember still the kissed lips 
And their dreamy avowals ? 



Then when eyes into eyes did look, 
Feeling mirrored in feeling lay. 
Then, my heart, 'twas time to waken, 
Now to slumber forgetful. 



Sleep, disquieted heart, O sleep 1 
Worldly sorrow and joy forget ! 
Let not hope destroy thy slumber, 
Nor a dream thy oblivion. 



Happiness. 137 



HAPPINESS. 



She smiles and sings the livelong day — 

A very happy maiden she, 
Whose blessed fancies charm away 

Her sorrows and her misery ! 



How sad and strange the people here ! 

They sigh and shriek and whisper things 
To shun, to loathe, to dread, to fear — 

But all the day she smiles and sings. 



138 Happiness. 

'Tis sweet to know that there can be 
Someone whose woe has taken wings — 

A very happy creature she 

Who all the day long smiles and sings ! 



Her Soul and Body. 139 



HER SOUL AND BODY, 



The wine was in the golden beaker ; 

Its red foam frothed and bubbled up ; 
For some fine spirit I was seeker ; 

I found one in that shining cup. 



I longed to breathe the sweets it scattered, 
To breathe, to taste, did Fate permit. 

But from my lips the cup fell shattered ; 
Then fell and broke my heart with it. 



To E tin. 141 



TO ELIN. 



The phantoms in my dreams resemble 

The soul of thee ; 
They tremble as thy soul did tremble 

From love of me ; 
I fain would clasp them in their tremor 

As I clasped thee, 
But frightened fly they from the dreamer, 

Like sounds made free ; 
Like those sweet sounds the winds are shaking 

From flower and tree, 
Which sigh and murmur in awaking 

Melodiously. 



142 To Elin. 

Ah, thou dear God, if thou hast power, 

If God thou be, 
Restore, restore one gentle hour 

With her to me ! 



The Brook. 143 



THE BROOK. 



All day the noisy brooklet goes 
Among the green hills restlessly, 

But soon with gentle silence flows 
Into the bosom of the sea. 



Live, restless heart, and throb and think 
All day among the hills with me, 

But when the night is come, then sink 
Into oblivion silently. 



The Lost Dreams. 145 



THE LOST DREAMS. 



We came unto an open door ; 
Pale Dreams with torches went before ; 
We entered into the sunless cave — 
It was the cavern of the grave ! 



it was desolate and cold 

And wrapped in silence manifold ! 
The Dreams went far off from my side ; 

1 had such fear I could have died. 



146 The Lost Dreams, 

Then suddenly the torches' light 
Flickered and faded from my sight ; 
I rushed back through the open door — 
The Dreams were lost and came no more t 



Norrland. 147 



NORRLAND. 
From the Swedish of A. A. Graf sir dm. 

HE. 

I know a land where silent even beaming 
Attires the heaven dark in northern sheen, 

Where under cloudy helms the cliffs grey gleaming 
Guard with ice-cuirasses the low ravine, 

Where many a rill from mountains wildly streaming 
Its thunder rolls beyond the distant scene, 

Where harps of mermen in the waves are tinkling, 

And moon its kisses on the wet harps sprinkling. 



148 Norrland. 

SHE. 

I know a night as bright as day and tender ; 

For flowers slumbering the sun shines yet ; 
And smiling in their youthfulness and splendor, 

The Morn and Even are in heaven met ; 
While waking birds their notes so mournful render, 

And all is fragrant as a violet ; 
There elfins light in swaying circles hover, 

Their silver wings the meadow gleaming over. 



HE. 

I know where forest olden, and the land is, 
Where we went under the resounding shore ; 

I know the sea and where the dim green strand is, 
Which round blue ocean its high rampart bore ; 

A fir-tree nodding there upon the sand is, 
Whose bowing head is hung the billows o'er; 

There lay our father's house ; the bay was by it, 

And in this nook the world seemed free and quiet. 



SHE. 

I know where are the valley and the island, 
In flowers and in song-birds rich of yore ; 



Norrland. 149 

O stands the olden alder on the highland, 

And is our cot still as the cot before, 
When in the room I often stood the while, and 

Saw golden sink the sun behind the shore ? 
Come, reach to me thy true, good hand, my brother, 
Return we to that land fair as no other ! 



IntheHarz. 151 



IN THE HARZ. 



Across the mountain and the valley 
The goat-bells tinkle, tinkle, tinkle ; 

The warm winds whisper, sing and dally 
In heather bloom and periwinkle ; 



The fir-trees change their gloom for smiling ; 

The long sounds from the distant churches 
Float up enchanting and beguiling. 

And lose themselves among the birches ; 



152 In the Hatz. 

The red-roofed hamlets seem like roses 
Which drowsily the eyes may number, 

And far and wide the blue sky closes 

O'er those who dream and those who slumber. 



The Pythoness. 153 



THE PYTHONESS. 



Has none thy grace and beauty sung ? 

Has no man given thee caresses ? 
Has no one wish to dwell among 

Thy far-off wildernesses ? 



Yet thou art delicate and fair, 

Thou art so graceful and so slender ; 

Canst thou not charm into thy lair, 
Or trust and love engender ? 



154 The Pythoness. 

How bright and strange and strong thine eyes, 
Deceiving, luring and disarming ! 

*Tis good that most of us are wise 
Beyond thy might of harming ! 



Thy Bouquet. 155 



THY BOUQUET. 



The lily of the valley lent 
Its odor of green solitude ; 

It seemed a lowly monument 

Of some sweet sorrow in thy mood. 



The modest violet repined 

I know, to leave its forest dell, 

And yet it yielded undefined 

Remembrances of one loved well. 



156 Thy Bouquet. 

I knew not if it were dear hopes 
That I might look upon them soon, 

But the rose unveiled the golden slopes 
With birds and rivers in the noon. 



O lily, violet and rose, 

Conveyers of some secret thought, 
Your message still completer grows 

Since with you blooms forget-me-not ! 



Between the Twilight and the Dawn. 157 



BETWEEN THE TWILIGHT AND THE DAWN. 



Between the twilight and the dawn, 

While slumber holds my limbs and senses, 

Save the slow breathing, life is gone 
And left to sleep her slight defenses. 



How still my body, ah, how quiet. 
Between the twilight and the dawn ! 

How much more mad my fancies riot 
Because it sleeps in silence on ! 



158 Between the Twilight and the Dawn. 

How much more mad, how much more wild, 
How much more fanciful my soul is ! 

It roams thy room, my happy child, 
Entranced among thy holy holies. 



And, oh, if it do bend so near, 

That thy too tremulous lips it brushes, 

Yet have no fear, in dreams no fear. 
But sleep on in unbroken hushes. 



To some sweet place my soul is gone. 

While slumber holds my limbs and senses, 

Between the twilight and the dawn — 
O Death destroy their frail defenses 

And let them moveless slumber on ! 



Ebba af Hjelmsdter. 159 



EBBA AF HJELMSATER. 



Full many things were dear in earth, 
Sadness and loveliness, my thrall. 

But you were dearer, you had worth 
Beyond them all. 



I leaned above your gentle face 
Seeing no sorrow and no pain. 

And now all night my wild thoughts chase 
You through my brain. 



The Death of Hope. i6i 



THE DEATH OF HOPE. 



My lady lay all listlessly, 
With the doomed day about to die, 
And did her lips in moving pray ? 
'Twas thus my lady lay. 



Her eyes were full of sombre light, 
As if she knew of nearing night 
And gazed upon an unknown way— 
'Twas thus my lady lay. 



1 62 The Death of Hope. 

Half rising heavily on her hand, 
She looked a long look o'er the land 
Growing with gloaming into gray — 
Then low my lady lay. 



A soft sob and a softer sigh, 
As of leaves that stir when winds pass by ; 
Be meek and mourn as mourn I may, 
For low my lady lay. 



With a Water-lily. 163 



WITH A WATER-LILY. 

From the Norwegian of H. Ibsen. 

My loved one, what I bring, ah, see \ 
A flower with snowy wings to thee ; 
Upon the still stream slumbering 
Dream-heavy swam it in the spring. 



If thou wilt place it where 'tis meet, 
Then place it on thy bosom, sweet ; 
Behind its petals secretly 
A deep and silent wave will be. 



1 64 With a Water-lily. 

Beware, my child, the gliding stream ! 
Dangerous, dangerous there to dream — 
For Necken sounds his lute asleep — 
The lilies lie above it deep. 



My child, thy bosom is the stream. 
Dangerous, dangerous there to dream ! 
The lilies lie above it deep — 
And Necken plays although asleep. 



The Flame in the Wind. 1 65 



THE FLAME IN THE WIND. 



It starts and shivers, pales and trembles, 
Now fixed and certain, now despairing ; 

Now thin, it some wan ghost resembles, 
Once bright and beaming and uncaring. 



And now, behold it leap and quiver, 

With its last strength, but fade in trying ! 

Thus I start, tremble, pale and shiver, 
Now fixed and certain and now dying ! 



The Bell. 167 



THE BELL. 



The body is a temple 
As men have said ; 

My heart is a bell 

Which tolls love dead. 



Love lies in the transept 
All clothed in white ; 

Through the windows low 
Comes the wan red light. 



1 68 The Bell. 

Past days come slowly 
To look at her, 

And they sigh as they think 
What her glories were. 



The body is a temple 
As men have said ; 

The heart is a bell ; 
It tolls love dead. 



The Mummy. 169 



THE MUMMY. 



I laid her memory away 

With one sweet rose that she had given, 
Here in a secret drawer one day — 

No record has that day in Heaven, 



And many soulless years have died 
Ere happy chance again reveals it, 

All bandaged, rolled and swathed and tied 
In one long ribbon which conceals it. 



170 The Mummy. 

Unrolled, but fragrant dust I stir, 

Yet she is there as love once showed her — 

For the dead rose in its sepulchre 
Embalmed the maiden with its odor. 



To Music. 171 



TO MUSIC. 



Late thou spokest to me, 

Giving wings to my thought, 

For my soul was made free 

By thy sweet mystery, 
But again it is caught. 



But where did it go ? 

Why came it again ? 
Ah ! I feel the sad blow 
The awaking to know — 

Ah ! I feel the sad pain. 



172 To Music. 



Late thou spokest to me, 

Waking dreams in my thought, 
For my soul was made free 
By thy strange mystery, 

But again it is caught. 



To the Silent King. 173 



TO THE SILENT KING. 



O thou austere and silent king, 

No more my fancies do forswear thee, 

But to thy shadowy shrine they bring 
This token of the love I bear thee. 



Though whom thy sad and fatal eyes 
Do fix upon must fail and falter, 

Though whom they see — tomorrow dies — 
I hang these verses at thy altar. 



174 ^0 the Silent King. 

I hang them at thy shrine, O king, 
Amidst the moaning and the sighing ! 

From hate I turn to worshipping, 
And unto loving from defying. 



If that God be as mortals say, 

Who changes what seems sweet to curses. 
Then bids us kneel to Him and pray — 

I turn from Him to ask thy mercies. 



Or if, as fewer men conceive, 
All soul is due to dust's endeavor 

Its lowly form and place to leave — 
How much more am I thine forever ! 



For, after all, to him who fails. 

Whom thy stern eyes so wear and wither, 
Thy fatal look so blights and pales, 

Thy influence draws unswerving hither. 



To the Silent King 175 

Thou grantest this : that he shall sleep 

Through all these centuries' uproar listless, 

In earth's great tumult silence keep — 
A sweet oblivion and resistless. 



Ah ! him thy beauteous eyes shall hold 
Till grief is gone and past is passion ; 

Then shalt thou to thy bosom fold 
Him dreamless in thy pitying fashion. 



So, Wearer of the Cypress Crown, 
Thou sombre liege of my adoring, 

Here at thy feet I lay me down, 
Thy mercy and thy aid imploring : 



That thou wilt erelong deign to lay 
Upon my head thy hand forgetful. 

So soothing all these shapes away 
Which haunt me in this fever fretful ; 



lyS To the Silent King. 

Till care and weariness shall cease 

For me within these shadows kneeling, 

And I shall feel thy blissful peace, 

Thy drowsy languor through me stealing ; 



And thou shalt hold me with thine eyes, 
No more this bitterness deploring, 

Through all these noisy centuries. 
Thou silent God of my adoring ! 






AXEL. 



FROM THE SWEDISH OF 



ESAIAS TEGNER 



His willing Muse on hills of Sweden strayed, 
Though far too queenly for a land so lone, 
For lofty was she, as some Northern maid. 
And all sweet hues of Southron seemed her own ; 
Sometimes but fair as Grecian goddesses, 
Sometimes a glory in the robe of morn, 
Now AxeVs 7naid in passion'' s tenderizess, 
Now Frithiof 's bride whom milder loves adorn." 

— Malmstrom. 



Axel. 1 79 



AXEL. 



The olden time is dear to me, 

The Carolinian era^ olden, 

For it was glad as conscience golden 

And valorous as victory ; 

While still upon the Norland lies 

Its halo round encircling skies, 

And mighty forms of heroes true, 

With yellow belts and coats of blue, 

At twilight wander far and near. 

I look with awe as ye appear, 

O heroes, who on high abide, 

With kirtles, and long swords at side 



i8o Axel. 

An aged warrior I knew in 

The dear days of my childhood, when 

On earth he stood, but even then 

An arch of victory in ruin. 

And from his century brow there shone 

The only silver which he had, 

And scars upon his forehead said 

What runes say on a bauta-stone.z 

Himself a poor man, he had felt 

The poor man's lot, but scorned its pain ; 

While in a forest hut he dwelt, 

His soul still sought the battle plain. 

But two bright jewels were his care 

Whose worth the world had not outweighed- 

His Bible and the ancient blade 

With " Karl the Twelfth " engraven there. 

The battles by that chieftain fought. 

Now in a hundred writings sought, 

(That eagle flew so far around) 

Were in the old man's memory stored, 

Like urns of warriors deplored 

Within some green old burial mound. 

O when he spake of danger near 

The monarch or his men in blue. 



Axel. 1 8 1 

How high he held his head anew, 

How glowing did his eyes appear, 

How sturdy as a sabre's clang 

Each word that from his two lips sprang ! 

So oft and long at night he sat 

And talked of former time and fame ; 

Whene'er he spake his monarch's name 

He lifted off his threadbare hat. 

I stood in wonder by his knees, 

(For then I reached but little higher) — 

The high-born image of his sire, 

Which youth then saw, my manhood sees, 

And many a legend undefined 

Dwelled afterward within my mind 

Sword-lily-like, whose embryo 

Doth slumber under winter snow. 



The old man rests and is no more. 
Peace to his dust ! This story's worth 
I owe to him. O take it. North, 
And Axel's fate with me deplore ! 
Beside his tale my song is nought 
But simple rhymes together brought. 



1 82 Axel. 

In Bender3 lay the mighty king, 

His country waste with pillaging, 

His name, late honored, laughed to scorn. 

His followers, like a chief forlorn 

Who late the deathly chill has felt, 

Behind their lifted bucklers knelt, 

And now no hope of succor blessed 

Another than his noble breast. 

Though battle was the pages turning 

Of Fate's book, though the earth did sway, 

Serene stood he like some archway 

Unharmed within a city burning. 

Some cliff above the wild sea-wave. 

Or Fortitude beside the grave. 



One evening unto Axel said he, 
" Here is a note " — a message laid he 

Within his hands — " Haste thou away, 
'^ And, Axel, ride both night and day 
'* Up unto Sweden ; when dost land, 
*' Commit this to the Council's hand. 
" But hence with God this evening fare 
** And greet for me the mountains there ! 



Axel. 183 

Young Axel, loving well to ride, 

With joy received and sewed it in 

His girdle. Under Holofzin^ 

His father fell the king beside. 

And left alone the army's son 

Grew up in din of sword and gun. 

His was a form of beauty, and 

Such as e'en now the North may bear. 

As fresh as rose, but tall and fair 

As any pine in Sweden's land. 

As heaven upon a cloudless day 

His brow was arched and bold and bright, 

And serious in their earnest light 

His noble features ever lay. 

You saw it in his shining eyes, 

That they were made to look above 

With honest hope and trusting love 

To the Father of Light within the skies, 

And down with fearlessness on him 

Who sees alone the midnight dim. — 

Among the royal guardss he found 

A place with souls like his renowned, 

A little band whose number small 

Was one for every Dipper star. 

Or nine, as Memory's daughters are, 

And wisely were they chosen all. 



1 84 Axel. 

They proved themselves by sword and flame ; 

It was a christened Viking-stem, 

Not unlike that preceding them, 

Whose dragon-ships through ocean came. 

They never slept upon a bed, 

But in their cloaks upon the earth 

'Mid drifts and tempests from the north 

As calmly as where flowers spread ; 

They oft crushed horse-shoes in their games ; 

None ever saw them round the flames 

That crackle in the fire-place bright ; 

They rather chose the warmth of balls 

As red as the round sun which falls 

Slow down in blood some winter night. 

It was their law in battle bold 

That one should yield to seven first. 

With breast still turned unto the worst — 

The back no victor should behold. 

And lastly was a charge beside, 

Most arduous duty yet assigned — 

Unto no maid to turn their mind 

Till Karl himself had found a bride : 

However blue two eyes might beam, 

However red two lips might be, 

However fair some bosom seem. 

Like swans upon a gentle sea, — 



AxeL 185 

To close their eyes — or haste away, 
For wedded to their swords were they. 



Young Axel mounts his charger gay 
And gallops swiftly night and day 
TJntiHie comes to Ukraine's streams, 
When suddenly the woodland gleams 
With ambushed sabres bright around. 
And now a circle guards the ground. 

" Thou bearest from Bender Karl's decree — 

*' Dismount, surrender it to me ! 

*' Dismount or die ! " — his sword held high 
Comes down in Swedish plain reply ; 
The speaker humbled by his worth 
Bows low in blood unto the earth. 
Beside an oak in bold affray 
The warrior playeth now his play ; 
Where'er the heavy sabre sings. 
It bends a knee and red blood brings ; 
He keeps his covenant aright ; 
Not one to seven — that were small — 
His sword on twenty swords does fall ! 
He fights as did Rolf Krake fight^ — 
In his distress no aid asks he, 
But only seeks death's company. 



1 86 Axel. 

Yet wounds with mouths of purple hue 

Now whisper his last moments too ; 

Though round his heart the blood grows chill, 

His fingers grasp the weapon still ; 

But darkness fills his eyes, and white 

He sinks into the long, long night. 



•But hark ! the woods give forth a sound, 
And falcon bold and faithful hound 
Follow the prey. In hurried chase 
A company swings up apace. 
Upon a spotted steed advances, 
With habit green and cheeks rose-red, 
With speed as if by whirlwind led, 
An Amazon fair as daylight's glances. 
In fright the band of robbers flies. 
As from the dead her courser shies. 
With one quick spring she leaps to earth 
And sees him lie, as in the glen 
The oak lies fallen on bushes when 
The storm has ravaged from the north. 
How fair he lay there in his blood ! 
Maria bending o'er him stood 
Like Dian who, in years before 
Descending from the heavenly door 



Axel. 187 

To Latmos, far from hunting flown, 
Leaned over her Endymion ; 
But he who spells on Dian cast 
Was not more beauteous than this last. 
A spark of life is still descried 
Within his bosom bare and torn, 
And on a bier of branches borne, 
Which but a moment does provide. 
The pallid one they quickly bring 
Unto her dwelling neighboring. 



Beside his pillowed head she sate, 
Her pity and sad grief prevailing. 
And fastened on his features paling 
Her glances worth a king's estate. 
She sat as in the groves of Greece, 
(Fair land which time now overthrows !) 
A wild flower often lonely grows 
Beside a fallen Hercules. 
At length from trance awakened weak. 
He starts up and begins to speak, 
But, ah, his eyes before so mild 
Now stare around him vague and wild : 



1 88 



Axel. 



Where am I ? Girl, what wilt from me ? 

Me never must a woman see ! 

I unto Karl the king am bound. 

Thy tears must fall not in my wound. 

My father in the Milky Way 

Is angered, he has heard my vow. 

How fair though is the tempter now ! 

How luring ! Dark one, do not stay ! 

Where is my girdle ! where my note 

Which Karl himself my ruler wrote ? 

My father's sword is good — it bites 

Right faithfully the Muscovites. 

It was a pleasure thus to slay — 

If but the king had seen the fray ! 

They fell like grain before the steel — 

I almost seemed myself to reel. 

The letter I to Stockholm take. 

For it my honor is at stake. 

Up ! moments now are dear to me ! " — 

Thus speaks in raging fever he, 

But paly sinks the warrior then 

On peaceful pillow down again. 



Both life and death sought mastery, 
But life its forces brought anew 



Axel. 189 

Till death and danger slow withdrew ; 
Well now indeed could Axel see 
With clearer eyes though weak and dim 
The angel sitting near to him. 
Unlike was she idyllic maids 
Who go and sigh in greening glades 
And pine for aye in one same spot, 
With golden hair like sun just set, 
Each cheek a pink night-violet, 
Each eye a blue forget-me-not. 
An Eastern child was she ; as fair 
Upon her lay her raven hair 
As midnight on some rose-clad field, 
And joy's glad mood, the only truth, 
Sat proudly on her brow of youth 
Like Victory graven on a shield. 
Her face was fresh as limners trace 
Aurora's with its crown of grace. 
And she had become an Oread, 
As light of foot, as gay and glad. 
And high her bosom's billows came 
By youthfulness and vigor heaved ; 
Her form the rose and lily weaved. 
Her soul was purest fire and flame — 
A southern summer sky, most fair 
With golden sun and perfume rare. 



190 Axel. 

There struggled in her t-vvilight eye 
A heavenly and an earthly brand ; 
At times she glanced up proudly, and 
Seemed like the bird of Jove on high, 
And sometimes mildly as the two 
Doves that the car of Venus drew. 



O Axel, soon thy wounds' deep smart 
Is over and but scars remain ; 
Outside thy breast will heal again, 
But, ah, how is it with thy heart ? 
Look not so fondly on that hand 
"Which ever answ^ered pain's command- 
That hand like marble white and fine, 
It must not linger long in thine ; 
It is more perilous by far 
Than at the siege of Bender, where 
Hard hands of Ottomans there were 
With pistol and with scimetar ; — 
Those rosy lips that bloom anew 
And only part to murmur through 
A spirit-song of hope and cheer — 
Far better if again were heard 
The thunder that Czar Peter stirred 
At Pultow? in a former year. 



Axel. 191 



And when about in summer warm 
Thou falterest all pale and wan, 
Then, Axel, lean thy sword upon. 
And not upon that rounded arm, 
Which Amor moulded thus it seems 
As downy pillow for sweet dreams. 



O Love, thou earth and heaven wonder. 
Thou inspiration blest and rare, 
Like godlier and fresher air 
Life's suffocating forest under ! 
Thou heart in Nature's bosom calm ! 
Thou both to man and God a balm ! 
The drop the drop seeks in the sea, 
And all the heavenly stars we see 
In bridal-dance from pole to pole 
Aiound a common centre roll. 
In human souls thou dwellest frail, 
A twilight gleam, a memory pale 
Of fairer and of better days. 
When thou wert at thy childhood plays 
In heaven, whose great pavilion blue 
Thou sleptst in after frolic warm 
Each evening on thy Father's arm. 



192 Axel. 

Thy riches were by knowledge given ; 

Thy speech was but a gentle prayer ; 

And unto thee dear brothers were 

All winged and beauteous sons of heaven. 

But, ah, thou' St fall'n down here, since when 

Thy love is not as pure again. 

Still 'mong beloved one comprehends 

The nearness of thy heavenly friends. 

And hears their voices in the song 

Of spring, or tunes of bard among. 

Once more thy soul is gladdened then. 

As his who hears in wanderings 

A song of fatherland which brings 

His Alps and boyhood back again. 



It was at night. The Even lay 
Upon her western bed in dreaming, 
And silent, priests Egyptian seeming, 
The stars began their march away. 
And Earth seemed in the starlight pale 
A happy bride who standeth fair, 
A crown upon her raven hair. 
And smile and blush beneath her veil. 



Axel. 1 93 

While from the day's long play at rest, 
Still lay the Naiad laughing low, 
And reddening sunset all aglow 
Seemed like a rose upon her breast ; 
Then every Cupid who lay bound 
When shone the sun was free to ride 
On all the moonbeams far and wide, 
With dart and bow the grove around — 
The grove, that dim and green arcade 
Where Spring her recent entrance made. 
Among the oaks the nightingale 
A melody caroled through the dale. 
As tender and as pure and plain 
As any poem of Franzen.s 
It seemed that Nature now was glad 
That she a silent moment had, 
So full of life and yet so still 
One might have heard her pulse's thrill. — 
Then slowly walked together there. 
With minds entranced, the youthful pair ; 
As lovers rings exchange, so they 
Their memories of childhood's day. 
Of happy long gone days he told, 
Passed in his mother's cottage old. 
Built up of fir-wood painted red 
And hidden in the forest grand ; 



194 Axei. 

And of his cherished fatherland 
And courtly kinsmen who were dead. 
He told how oftentimes and long 
The deep and olden warrior-song 
And leather-bound historic lore 
Awoke his soul to rise and soar ; 
And how in many a dream at night 
A man of steel he sat upright 
Upon the twelve-foot pacer Grane,p 
And rode like Sigurd Fofnisbane 
The fires that were enchanted through 
To Brynhild fair, whose mountain tower 
Stood flaming in the moonlight hour 
Above the bays that round it grew. 
Within his chamber ill at ease, 
He fled among the greenwood trees 
And climbed with boyish pleasure up 
To the eagle in the fir-tree top, 
And swung upon the northwind slow 
With heart refreshed and cheek aglow. 
O could one but a ride obtain 
Upon the passing cloudlet's wain, 
And far beyond the harbor glide 
Into the world so fair and wide, 
-Where victory nods and glories wait 
To wreathe the hair of brave and great. 



Axel. 195 

Where Karl the king (who it appears 
Is older by some seven years) 
With good sword plucks what crowns he may, 
Then godlike gives them quick away ! 
' My mother after fifteen years 

* No more embraced me, and with tears 
^ I hastened thence to Poland o'er. 

' To camp since then my life has turned, 
' And faithful as a watch-fire burned 
' In clash of steel and cannon roar. 
' But sometimes saw I birds meseems 

* That fed with soft caress their young, 
' Sometimes a child that played among 
' The flowers on the brinks of streams ; 

' Then vain became the battle's thunder, 
' And those sweet scenes and places grew 
' Into my soul with golden hue 

* Of happy children green groves under ; 
^ And by a quiet cottage door, 

' A maiden stood, and sunset's flame 
'■ Lit up her face which was the same 

* I saw at times in dreams before ; 

*■ But now in sooth these forms appear 
' Forever in my soul to be ; 
' I close my eyes and still I see 

* Them all around alive and clear. 



196 Axel. 

'' The maid who stands among them, she 
'^ Is thine own mirrored self, Marie ! " 



Then timidly replied Marie : 
'^ What pleasure does not man possess ! 
*' The stronger one is fetterless 
" And was from birth among the free ; 
*' And danger's charm and glory's name 
'' And earth and heaven — all his became. 
^' 'Twas woman's fate to have been made 
^' To be through life to man an aid, 
'' A solace to his poignant grief 
" Forgotten when he finds relief; 
' ' The offering she, and he the fire 
'' Which unto heaven doth bright aspire. — 
" Beneath the Czar my father fell ; 
"■ I scarce recall my mother's face; 
^' The moorland child grew wild apace 
'^ Upon these lands, where slaves serve well 
'' Their master's whims, bear cheerily 
'' The idol of their misery. 
^' A noble mind must loathe to stay 
" With those who every nod obey. 
*' Didst see upon the moorland wide 
^' The fiery steeds that there abide ? 



Axel. 197 

" As brave as hero, light as hind, 

" They yield them to no lord's command ; 

" With ears erect they steady stand 

" And, turned to danger, face the wind, 

'^ When sudden in a cloud again 

" The throng sweeps swiftly o'er the plain 

'' With unshod hoof to fight their foes ; 

'' And they too have their joys and woes. 

*' Ye children of the desert fair, 

" How blest your life on meadows there ! 

" Full oft I called and bade them bide, 

*' Whene'er my neighing Tartar steed, 

" Like bridled slave me bore with speed 

'^ To his unshackled brothers' side ; 

^' They would not heed my words nor stay, 

'* But fled disdainfully away. 

" Oppressive to my soul unbound 

'' Became the castle's irksome round, 

'' And warfare I with zeal incurred 

*' With forest wolf and mountain bird, 

*' And oft from bears' paws did reclaim 

^' A life which then of worth became. 

*' But, Nature, none can change thy will ! 

*' Within a cottage, on a throne, 

*' A housewife or an Amazon, 

'' A woman is a woman still. 



198 Axel. 

'* A vine which unsupported dies, 

** A being partly incomplete 

*' Whose life unshared is life unsweet, 

'' Whose joy in twofold pleasure lies, 

" There throbs within my inmost breast 

*' A feeling of a sweet unrest, 

'' A longing I can ill define, 

'' Such pain and yet such bliss is mine. 

*' It has no bound, it has no aim, 

" It is as if I winged became 

'* And went from earth and all that mars 

" To God's pure mansion and the stars, 

" As if again I downward fell 

'* Unto those beings cherished well — 

*' The trees whose growth with me was made, 

'' The hill in flowery crown arrayed, 

" The river running with love-chimes — 

*' I heard them, saw a thousand times 

'' But with a statue's unconcern — 

" Now first, now first my love they learn ! 

" It is for self my love is weak; 

'* It is a feeling far more true 

" And loftier than before " Here flew 

A blush across the maiden's cheek, 
And meanings which she could not say 
Within a sigh were breathed away. 



Axel. 199 

Now sings the nightingale in gloom ; 

The moon in clouds to listen is, 

And with a long, eternal kiss, 

As warm as life, as true as tomb. 

Their spirits mingle in one tone, 

One blissful harmony alone. 

They kissed as in an altar-fire 

Two flames oft kiss and then unite, 

And flash aloft their higher light. 

And nearer unto heaven aspire. 

For them the earth-life was no more, 

And time stood still which fled before ; 

For every moment in the rounds 

Of time is measured and has bounds. 

But Death's cold kiss and Love's embrace 

Are children of a deathless race. 

O happy ones ! If earth and all 

Should change to mist, they would not see ; 

If heaven should now in ruin be, 

They scarcely would perceive its fall : 

Like guardian souls of South and North, 

With heart to heart they would remain, 

Unconscious that they did attain 

To bliss of heaven from that of earth. 

Back from the heavenly journey made 



200 Axel. 

First Axel came : '* Now, by my blade, 
'* By Northern faith, by stars of night 
^' Which stand like bridesmaids clothed in white 
*' And through the midmost forest shine, 
^' By earth and heaven, thou now art mine ! 
^' O were I far from battle's riot, 
" In some kind dale where peace and quiet 
'* Between the mountains ever lie, 
*' With thee to live, with thee to die ! 
'^ But, ah, an oath, an oath between, 
" With warning look and pallid mien, 
" Comes silent and lays fingers chill 
'' Upon our bosoms fervid still ! 
" But fear not ! Time a change will make 
"■ And loose the oath I dare not break. 
'* I must away ! When May next year 
" Invites us to her floral cheer, 
" Once more I'll come, whate'er betide, 
^' To claim thee as my wife, my bride. 
'' Farewell, my soul, we meet again, 
'' Farewell, a long farewell, till then ! " 



So said he turned, and in his hands 
He took his belt, he took his blade, 
And fearlessly his journey made 



Axel. 20 1 

Over the Czar's one hundred lands. 
The wood his cover made by day ', 
By night the warrior held his way 
Toward that heavenly centre far, 
Our Northern never-changing star, 
Toward the Wain of Charles the bold, 
Which never wanders from our sight, 
That Wain with pole all burnished bright 
And wheel-spikes fashioned out of gold. 
So riding through a thousand woes 
Amidst a multitude of foes, 
He came to Sweden's capital 
Where all his strange adventures hear, 
And brought the message and good cheer 
As Karl bade to the Council hall. 



But meanwhile, in her vacant halls, 
Maria sighs brave Axel's name ; 
Deep in the wood she sighs the same 
And teaches mount and vale her calls : 

" What oath restrains him with its band ? 

" Some maiden in his fatherland, 

" An older flame? He loved before ? 

'* Alas ! my heart distrusts the more. 

^' Thou maid, by Northern snows concealed, 



202 



Axel. 



Soon one of us to fate must yield ! 

Thou knowest not what burns in me ; 

Far, far beyond thy frozen sea, 

And far beyond thy mountains high, 

I will pursue thee — thou must die ! 

Yet — Axel left the North in youth 

And has not been there since in truth. 

And distant from the din of fray 

It is the shy Loves' wont to stay. 

'Tis honor, not a faithless art, 

Upon his open forehead lies ; 

It is in glances of his eyes 

I see the bottom of his heart. 

As day beholds the firm bed through 

Some river clear and silver-blue. 

Why flyest thou ? Thy oath enslaves 

Thee, and for what ? This breast to tear ? 

What — but my voice dies into air 

Like sighs of widow by her graves, 

Like plaining of a dove which flies 

Unanswered round the earth and skies. 

Between us roar the sea and wood. 

And, ah, he cannot hear my woe. 

What if I follow him ? But, no. 

That ill becomes my womanhood. 

A woman ? Who will know ? A blade 



Axel. 203 

** I bear, the man is soon arrayed. 

^' Great dangers have I often hailed, 

" When life or death was chance indeed ; 

** Fixed have I grown upon my steed, 

'* And never has my weapon failed. 

' ' Some god has made me this design — 

** Now Axel, Axel, art thou mine ! 

*' I seek thee in the farthest North, 

*^ I seek the round the whole of earth, 

*' From dale to dale, from strand to strand 

** This secret from thy lips to wring ; 

*' Take me, O War, upon thy wing 

** And set me down in Axel's land ! " 



So said so done. To say and do 
Are one with woman. Garments new 
She donned. In hat that warriors wear 
She hid the dark night of her hair, 
Concealed her bosom in disguise, 
And filled a knapsack with supplies, 
While from her shoulder soft and fine 
Was hung the deadly carabine. 
Within that zone Greek legends sing 
A crooked sword was glimmering; 
Then round about her lips she drew 



204 Axel. 

A shadow like a beard unshorn — 

It was as if one should adorn 

With mourning crape sweet roses two. 

She seemed in sword and belt's device 

Like Amor in a hero's guise 

Whom Clinias' son once bore embossed 

Upon his buckler brightly glossed. 



*' Farewell, thou home serene and mild ! 

'' Sometime with love when reconciled 

'' I shall return to thee once more. 

' * No longer must I stay my flight ! 

•* Take me within thy shade, O night, 

" And to my heart's friend me restore ! " — 

E'en then upon his conquered field 

Within the Norland's sleeping eye, 

Stood Peter's capital whereby 

Earth's mortgaged crowns he now makes yield. 

It then was petty. In the bay 

It like a new-born dragon lay. 

Its nature entered it while young, 

When on the sunny shingle coiled ; 

Soon in its tooth the poison boiled 

And soon it hissed with cloven tongue ! 



Axel. 205 

'Tis there prepared for Sweden's strand 

Lies naany a ship with blade and brand, 

And thither makes Maria way ; 

Amidst bright swords and banners gay 

She presses forward to entreat 

A place aboard the northern fleet. 

The chieftain of the fiery hordes 

Surveys her keenly with these words : 
" More dangerous must thou be when 
" The maidens see thee, than when men. 
*' When thou art sent against them they 
' ' Will scarcely pull thy beard away. 
"■ Still thou wilt ways of war be taught 
" By those who in the battles fought 
" Seek life or death. But o'er each land 
^' St. Nicholas and God command." 



Now swell the sails and swift keels plough 

The foam upon the eastern bay, 

And soon in sunset's fiery ray 

Stand Sweden's cliff's, appearing now. 

Where time and ocean long have rolled, 

Like Nature's giant-buoys of old. 

They disembarked at Sotaskar.^o 



2o6 AxeL 

A spot to true hearts dear and fair, 
Where parted once forevermore 
Sweet Ingeborg and Hjalmar chief, 
Where afterward she died of grief 
And he to Odin wandered o'er ; 
And there her ghost is sitting still 
Lamenting him upon the hill. 
Thou northern Leucas, soon will perish 
Thy name in days of legends known, 
But Hjalmar' s death-song will atone 
And thee the hearts of poets cherish ! 



Already burn the hamlets nigh, 
And children shriek and women fly — 
They know too well the Russian blood ; 
The bells ring round the neighborhood 
To tell their course, all night, all day, 
But, ah, the dead cannot awaken — 
O woe, thou poor land, thou forsaken, 
Within their graves thy warriors stay ! 
Still danger to their land could call 
Together lads and old men, all 
With swords once used on German ground 
Beneath great Gustaf Adolf's banner, 



Axel. 207 

And halberds in the self-same manner 
Used when they crossed the Danish somid, 
Then here and there an arquebuse 
With rusty lock and lighted fuse. 
These were the men who then arose, 
A little band and poorly armed, 
Unhesitating, unalarmed, 
To march against their many foes. 
But not as man with man they fight. 
Since hangs a cloud upon the height. 
And foemen from their mountain -hold, 
Whose lines undaunted none can flank, 
Strike death in volleys quick and bold 
Upon their thinned, revengeless rank. 



As comes great Thor full angrily 
With hammer and with girdle round, 
So Axel comes upon the ground 
Where flight and terror seem to be, 
A helping angel sent for weal. 
Whose arm is death, whose bosom steel ; 
Now here, now there, he guides the fight 
Alert upon his charger white. 
** Stand, Swedes, and close your lines anew ! 



2o8 Axel. 

*' King Karl hat sent me here to you, 
*' And greets his loyal men through me. 
" Let ' God and Karl ' the war-cry be ! " 
*' God and King Karl ! " the cry goes round ; 
They hear the brave one's voice resound. 
The cliff, whence death strikes all who climb. 
Is stormed within a moment's time ; 
They close the yawning gullies soon. 
While arms and corpses round are strewn. 
And blind but true the broadswords beat 
Upon long ranks in wild retreat, 
For startled flies the robber-band 
To drag the cables from the strand. 



Like sated beast of prey is seen 
Still Slaughter sleeping on the lea ; 
The moon pours from the canopy 
Upon the horrid field her sheen. 
Along the bay in shadows lying, 
Among the dead, walks Axel sighing. 
They lie together face to face. 
How close and rigid their embrace ! 
Wouldst thou a faithful clasp behold ? 
Look not on Love's where they enfold 



Axel. 209 

Each other smiling tenderly ; 

Go to the battlefield and see 

How Hate beneath the deadly smart 

His foeman presses to his heart ! 

Ah, fly the joys of love and cheer 

Like sighing winds in early year, 

But hate, necessity and grief 

Are steadfast until death's relief. 

So sighing, suddenly a cry, 

A moan in night breaks on his ear : 
'' O Axel, bring me water here, 
'' And take my farewell ere I die ! " 

At words like these, such well-known sounds, 

Among the rocks he headlong bounds 

And sees — a youth who leans unknown 

Wounded and bleeding on a stone. 

The moon from clouds peers forth and seeks 

Her pallid face — then shudders he 

And in a tone of horror shrieks, 
" O blessed Jesu, it is she ! " 

Ah, she it was ! With hidden smart 

She whispers to him soft and light, 
" Good even. Axel, no, good night, 
'•' For Death is sitting by my heart. 
" What brought me here, O ask not me ! 



2IO 



Axel. 



It was my blinded love of thee. 

Ah, when the day to darkness wears, 

And men stand by the grave's new door, 

How changed from what they seemed before 

Are life and all its petty cares ! 

'Tis only love like ours attends 

When man unto the skies ascends. 

I wished to know thy secret vow ; 

Among the stars I seek it now 

Where it is written — I shall see 

As clear as they thy honesty. 

I know I have been rash, and feel 

Thy grief for me is deep and real. 

Forgive me for the sake of love 

In every tear my grave above. 

I have no father, mother, brother ; 

Thou wept my brother, father, mother, 

Thou wert my all — O Axel, swear 

In death that thou wilt hold me dear ! 

Thou swearest — why should I deplore ? 

The sweetest tale in all its lore 

Has life revealed to me. Thy maid, 

O may she on thy heart be laid, 

And may her ashes not repose 

Here in this land late won from foes ? 

Lo, Axel, o'er the moon is cast 



Axel. 2H 

" A cloud ! ah, soon, when it has passed, 
** Then shall I die, then glorified 
" My shade shall sit the other side, 
" Beseeching good for thee, and so 
'* With all heaven's eyes to look below. 
*' A foreign rose let grace my tomb, 
*' And when it dies in wintry gloom, 
** The sun's child, muse upon her woe 
** Who slumbers under northern snow. 
*' Her days of bloom they could not last — 
" See, Axel, now the cloud is passed ! 
" Farewell, farewell ! " — she softly sighed. 
Then gently pressed his hand and died. 

From underground where the river flows, 
Not Death, but his young brother rose, 
Pale Madness, who is crowned e'er 
With poppies in his tangled hair, 
Who now glares wildly at the skies, 
Now earthward lets his glances slip, 
With laughter round distorted lip, 
And tears in half-extinguished eyes. 
He lays his hand on Axel's brow, — 
Ah, Axel wanders round her now 
Entombed, as in old sagas went 
Around his hoard a dead man's sprite ; 



212 Axel. 

The sea-sands hear him day and night 
In pitiful and dread lament : 



*' Be still, be still, thou sea, no more 

* ' Must thou thus lash and beat the shore ! 

' ' Thou only dost disturb my dreams ; 

*' I do not love thy many streams, 

" Which sometimes froth in bloody tide — 

*' Thou bearest death unto my side. 

" Here lately lay a youth and bled ; 

" I now strew loses on his tomb, 

•' For he was like — I well know whom — 

" With her at spring-time I shall wed. 

' ' They tell me earth has rocked to sleep 

" My bride, and that the grass grows deep 

" Upon her breast : love hath not died ; 

" She sat at night on the steep hill-side 

" As pale as limners Death portray — 

" But that was from the moon's white ray; 

" Her lips and cheeks were frozen through — 

' * But that came when the north-wind blew ; 

" I bade the dear-loved one to stay — 

•' She stroked my brow in gentle way, 

^' For it was dark and heavy then, 

'' But soon became it light again. 



Axel. 213 

" And in the far East rose before 

*' Me days, ah, days that are no more, 

*' Those azure days and passing fair — 

'^ How happy they, poor Axel, were ! 

*' A castle stood green woods among 

** Whose towers unto her belong ; 

*' I lay there wounded in the strife, 

** And with a kiss she gave me life, 

" And also gave her heart to me, 

•' So rich and warm a heart had she ! 

" Now in that withered breast at last 

** It frozen lies — and all is past ! 

'* Ye stars, that burn among the skies, 

" I pray you vanish from my eyes ! 

*' A morning star was known to me — 

** It sunk down in a bloody sea. 

" The scent of blood comes from the sand, 

*' And here is blood upon my hand ! " — 



So mourns he under Sotaskar. 
When day enkindles he is there, 
Nor goes he when the day is flown, 
But sitteth there in ceaseless moan. 
One morning dead beside the sea, 



214 Axel. 

With hands composed in prayer, sat he, 
And tears his pallid face had worn, 
Half-frozen in the winds of morn ; 
Unto his true-love's barren tomb 
His eyes were turned in misty gloom. 



Such was the tale I heard of old. 

How tenderly it then was told ! 

Though thirty winters' snows have been, 

It still exists my heart within. 

For with their features fixed and sharp, 

The childhood scenes are pictured well 

In souls of bards, where small they dwell 

Like Aslog" in King Heimer's harp. 

Until as she they forward press. 

Betraying then their godliness, 

With beauteous robes, with manners high 

And golden hair and kingly eye. 

In childhood's heaven are hung untold 

Sweet lyres well-wrought in ruddy gold ; 

What man may write in aftertime, 

As hero great, or flower small, 

In visions fairer glided all 

Before his eye in childhood's prime. 



Axel. 215 

Still sometime when the quail doth sing 

Melodiously in greening spring, 

And moon comes from the eastern wave, 

A spirit rising from the grave, 

Painting the dale and mountain-head 

With mournful colors of the dead, 

Then are there rustlings in mine ear, 

And then again I seem to hear 

That olden tale, known far and wide, 

Of Axel and his Russian bride. 



NOTES TO AXEL 



Notes to Axel. 219 



NOTES TO AXEL. 

1. The Carolinian Era is the time of Karl the Twelfth. 

2. A bauta-stone is a monument to a dead warrior inscribed 
with runes. 

3. Bender is a fortified town on the Dniester in Southern Russia, 
the retreat of Karl the Twelfth after the disastrous battle of Pultowa 
from 1709 to 17 1 2. 

4. Holofzin is a village in Poland where Karl the Twelfth 
attacked the Russians in 1708. 

5. The royal body-guard was limited to seven or nine members, 
equal either to the stars in Charles' Wain or to the daughters of 
Mnemosyne, the muses. 

6. Rolf Krake was a king of Denmark m prehistoric times, much 
lauded in northern sagas for his prowess in battle. When treacherously 
surrounded by conspirators under his half-sister Skuld, seeing all his 
comrades fallen, he with grim pleasure cleft helmet after helmet with 
his great sword, seeking " only company in death." 

7. Pultowa is a walled city in Russia where Karl the Twelfth 
was defeated by Peter the Great in 1709. 

8. Frans Michael Franz6n was born in Finland in 1772. He 
and Bishop Tegner and Archbishop Wallin form the brilliant triad of 
distinguished Swedish poets of that time. His lyrics are exceedingly 
popular in Finland and Sweden, and are particularly characterized by 
beauty of diction and sweetness of fancy. 

9. Sigurd figures in northern sagas as chiefest of heroes. He 
slew the terrible dragon Fofnir and was surnamed Fofnisbane, or 



220 Notes to Axel. 

Dragon-slayer, in commemoration of that exploit. He is represented 
as bearing a shield of ruddy gold on which was engraven a dragon, 
and Gram was the good sword with which he was girded. His noble 
horse was named Grane and was twelve feet high. They were 
inseparable companions, and when Sigurd was slain, Grane hung down 
his head in sorrow. Sigurd was the lover of the princess Brynhild, 
whose tower was encircled by enchanted fire, through which the hero 
rode to seek the fair maiden. Their passionate and mournful history 
is found in the ballads of the Elder Edda and in the Lay of the 
Niebelungen of a later day. — (See Prof. R. B. Anderson's Norse 
Mythology and Auber Foresiier's Echoes from Mist-Land.^ 

lo. Sotaskar is a rocky island among ihe numerous clusters of 
such in the vicinity of Stockholm. Leucas in Greece is famed as being 
the rock whence Sappho cast herself into the sea because of disap- 
pointment in love. The story of Hjalmar and Ingeborg is as follows : 

Hjalmar and Odd were two renowned chieftains, and as 
subjects of King Ane the Old lived over eighteen centuries ago. 
Hjalmar loved Ingeborg, the daughter of the king, and his love was 
returned, but the king opposed their union for the reason that Hjalmar 
was not of royal lineage. Odd and Hjalmar were one day met at 
Sotaskar by their enemies, the twelve sons of Andgrim, mightiest 
among whom was Agantyr with the sword Tirfing. They two slew 
the twelve, yet when Odd turned to look for his companion who had 
fought Agantyr, he saw him leaning against a mound sorely wounded, 
and to his sad queries Hjalmar answered, •' Every man must sometime 
die. Bear thou my farewell-song to Sweden." Thereupon he sang 
the famous death-song, which I in part translate : 



Fair the king's daughter 
Followed beside me. 
E'en to the islands 
By Agnefit. 



Notes to Axel. 221 

True was the tale she 
Told unto me then, 
That she should never 
More me behold. 



Bear to the king's hall 
Corselet and helmet. 
Them before all thou 
There shalt display. 
Heave will the heart of 
Her the king's daughter, 
Seeing the corselet 
Cut in the breast. 



Free from my finger 
The ruddy gold ring ; 
Go thou and give it 
Young Ingeborg. 
That will console her, 
Soften her sorrow 
That she shall never 
More me behold. 



Thus died Hjalmar. Odd bore his body to the court of Ane the 
Old, placing it beside the door, and, entering with the helmet and 
coal of mail, laid them at the feet of the king saying, " Hjalmar is 
fallen." He then sought the presence of Ingeborg. She sat upon a 
stool weaving a mantle for her lover, and Odd approaching her said 
mournfully, " Hjalmar greeteth thee and sendeth thee this ring in his 



222 Notes to Axel. 

death moment." Ingeborg took the ring, looked at him, uttered no 
word, but sunk beside him under the spell of death. Odd thereupon 
bore her to the door of the court and laid her in Hjalmar's arms 
muttering, " Now shall they dead enjoy the bliss which fate denied 
them living." Hjalmar and Ingeborg were buried in the same mound 
at Sotaskar. Odd wandered far off into strange countries, and coming 
at length to Jerusalem, became a Christian. The tumulus existed 
many centuries, and it is related that the spirits of Hjalmar and 
Ingeborg still haunt the place. — (See Fryxell's Sweden.) 

II. Aslog was the daughter of Sigurd and Brynhild. When King 
Heimer learned that her parents were dead and that Aslog too was in 
danger, procuring a large harp, he concealed within it the child 
together with the greater part of his riches, and in the guise of a 
beggar wandered to the far North, that he might thus avert disaster 
from the little one. He often freed her from confinement in the deep 
forest, when none was near, to allow her glimpses of the green wood 
and the grass and the blue sky, but replaced her on approaching the 
abode of men. One evening he arrived at a solitary hut among the 
mountains of Norway, where dwelled an old peasant and his wife,' 
and, though inhospitably received, was given a place to rest. The 
woman, attracted by a rich fringe protruding from the harp and 
by a golden bracelet under his ragged sleeve, prevailed upon her 
husband to murder Heimer as he slept, whereupon the wicked deed 
was done. The harp was opened and Aslog came forth. She was 
taken, clad in the homespun garments of the people who now assumed 
her guardianship, and was known as Kraka the Shepherdess for a long 
time afterward. Subsequently she became the wife of King Ragnar, 
her beauty and intelligence having been made known to him by some 
of his subjects who were travelling in that portion of the country. For 
this and other beautiful northern legends, see Anderson's Norse 
Mythology ; also for the names of Thor and Odin which are mentioned 
in Axel. 






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